Random Acts
by shadoedseptmbr
Summary: Crossover with AtS. Following along with the season, only with a few additional magical consequences. Abandoned.


Author Notes: Unbetaed. Read at your own risk. Unfinished, though I'm working steadily.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for the moment, if you watch the show you can read this so far. If it gets more intense, I'll let you know.  
  
Story Notes: Spoilers for season 6 of BtVS and season 3 of AtS, in general. Begins shortly after the events of Tabula Rasa and Offspring and continues on from there. This is a longer, season spanning story, not exactly an AU, more towards adding scenes in-between the shows.  
  
Distribution: There's nothing new under the sun. But as this particular arrangement of letters and spaces belongs to me, ask before you take. I'm new at all of this, so more than likely I'll just giggle and give it to you willingly.  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt and Mutant Enemy. Joss has been quoted as approving of fanfic. It would be profitless to sue me.  
*****  
  
She stared at the candle some random had left to burn on the bricked corner post of the children's section of Sunnyrest. Flickering, it had drawn her across the cemetery, hoping to find some ritual she could disperse. One recently risen, easily dusted vampire hadn't managed to relieve the tension she had built up with Spike in the shadows of the Bronze.  
  
Trailing her fingers along the rusting iron of the low fence, Buffy tried to catalog the events of the last day. Giles was gone, she was sure. England apparently proved far more interesting than dealing with the fallout of Willow's last attempt to correct her mistake of calling Buffy back from heaven...or where ever.  
  
Tara was gone as well, if the disarray in her mother's...no, Willow's room had been any indication. No wonder there, either.  
  
Spike was where ever he went when he disappeared.  
  
She closed her eyes, watching instead the impression of the flame on her eyelids. It was deeply silent here...the only silence she ever seemed to find these days, what with all the screaming in her head. Unless of course, the restless undead decided to pick this moment to sneak up on her from behind.  
  
Spinning, she connected the vamp's chest with her booted heel, flinging him backward into the Vanderheiden mausoleum, placed where they could watch over the ten children in the fenced portion of the cemetery. A Fyral demon lumbered into her range and tagged her on the shoulder, sprawling her to the ground. Grabbing the silver-chased dagger from her boot, she started to flip to her feet when a familiar platinum and black blur slammed into the hulking creature.  
  
A large vehicle passing on the nearby street briefly illuminated the scene, allowing Buffy to see the recovered vampire streaking towards her even as Spike growled out "Slayer...silver something, please?" He ducked a punch from the demon and latched onto a horn, lurching it off balance. She spun to meet the less helpful vampire, tripping and staking him as he fell.  
  
Jerking around, she flung the dagger to Spike, calling his name to alert him to the blade. He caught it with ease, but the distraction allowed the Fyrall to land a huge fist to his chin. Rolling her eyes, Buffy huffed as Spike launched himself back at the other demon. "You know, this is massively entertaining. Would you kill him already? And don't bend..." She started to the fray, intending to grab the creature from behind when Spike rammed the blade to the hilt in the demon's scaly throat. Roaring, the beast flung himself backwards, his elbow catching Buffy in mid-leap, abruptly reversing her direction.  
  
Spike smirked as it fell, twitching, to the damp grass. "S'what you get for interfering in my brawl, pet."  
  
He leaned down to snatch the dagger, wiping its blade on his duster. "Not bent atall. How about you, Buff.." Glancing in the direction she had flown, he froze. "Buffy?"  
  
"Spike?" She tried to lift her arm to feel where the iron post protruded through her chest. By her side before her next heartbeat, he closed his fist around the base of the intrusion, trying to stop the hemmorage.  
  
"It'll be okay...let me find something to cut this..." He started to sprint to the abandoned caretaker's shed, empty since no sensible person kept watch in Sunnydale cemeteries at night when her voice called him back.  
  
"Don't. Stay." Her breathless tone caught him and he reached a pale hand to touch the blood bubbling from her lips.  
  
"I gotta.."  
  
Her head tilted a little to catch his cool hand between her damp cheek and shoulder. "Say goodbye." Her eyes, glazing and damp caught his gaze.  
  
"Not again!" He protested, futilely he knew since he could hear the heart muscle tearing with every failing beat. Her head fell farther to the side, the light of the candle reflected flickering in her last breath.  
  
***  
  
"I don't know....This bit about the `Tro-clon' seems all crossed with this other bit about the Chlaenine, te Chlyn vertens..." Hunched over her notes, Fred pushed the glasses back up the narrow bridge of her nose. " It's like a binary star system, one rotating around the other."  
  
Wesley's face went still as he pondered the phrase. "Chlaenine...Chlyn. Seem to be forms of the same word....capitalization makes them formal titles, vertens...forsake." He shook his head, shaking himself out of the fascination of the puzzle. "But that part of the Nyazian scroll deals with what happens after the `Tro-clon' arises. We need to focus for the moment on what the creature is." Leaning back in his chair, he glanced up to the ceiling. Above them, Gunn still sat watch on their visitor. "Preferably before it happens."  
  
"But..isn't this one.."lecham' the equivalent of feeds or fuels? Shouldn't we figure out what `ll run this critter? Just in case we can't stop it?"  
  
"We can't waste...!" Wesley stopped in mid phrase...ducking his head. "Fred, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to raise my voice."  
  
She leaned over, setting her ink stained hand over his, though he snatched it back. "Wes...it's okay. I'm not some rabbit you're gonna scoot under a bush."  
  
"I...Maybe Cordelia, when she gets back, wouldn't mind..."  
  
"Wouldn't mind what?" The two scholars faced the door of the office, seeing a rather irked looking Cordelia Chase holding two shopping bags and a small box under one arm. She heaved one bag to the cluttered desk. "This is my third run for books today! I;m so not going again." Dropping into one of the chairs and letting the other bag slump to the floor, she waved her hand towards the stairs. "Make Daddy dearest go before he wears a hole in the carpet."  
  
Wesley quirked a little half smile at the exasperated look on her face. "Not that. We just need you to trace this phrase," he pointed to Fred's portion of the scroll, "so that we can get to the heart of the more urgent task." Pawing through the stack of books Cordy had just dropped on the desk, he pulled out a faded red text. "Roclaire's Lingua and ahh...Fred? Where did we lay Aorchai's..."  
  
"Signet Archives?" Fred popped back from under the desk, holding a crumbling grey folder. "Here ya go!" She handed the packet to the other woman, who arched a nicely shaped eyebrow at the ex-Watcher.  
  
"But I don't speak...or read this." Flipping through the loose pages, she shook her head "This is like geometry. How is this even a language?"  
  
"Just match up this phrase" Wesley scribbled on a loose sheet and tore it off, tucking it into the book in his hand "with something in one of these. Roclaire's is almost in English."  
  
"Fine. Two hours and then I'm going home to Dennis and my bath." She turned on her heel and stalked to her desk in the lobby. In a louder voice, she called back "Angel could help if he's done knitting booties."  
  
"I'll be down in a minute." The low voice from upstairs sparked a smile across Fred's face before she leaned back over her notes.  
  
***  
  
The pale of sunrise had skirted the edges of the cemetery by the time Spike got his Slayer's body back to his crypt in the depths of the graveyard. To close to daylight to make it to the Magic Box, he had decided to go by the tunnels. Instead, reluctant to deliver the grim news, he laid her cooling form gently on the cement sarcophagus. He stared down at her, wondering if it would be too late to..."Damn." He cut his thoughts off. Running his hand over the wounds on her breast to release the hair that had caught in the gore, the vampire smoothed it back, fingering the strands that were darker gold than he'd ever seen them. Her blood, still retaining a little warmth glistened on the roughness of his fingertips and he focused on the hair instead, wondering briefly why she had left it dark, not submitted to the hairdresser after her return. The fluid changed colors in the dim tomb, coagulating against the chill of his skin. His eye shuttered closed and he brought his fingers to  
his mouth, licking the liquor from his flesh.  
  
Like whiskey to a temperate man. His head reeled, though her death hung in its aftertaste. Spike stumbled back against the wall, sliding down it as he watched her stillness, fumbling for his flask to sear the buzz from his tongue. It was only three days ago he had stopped her from burning...and she was as dead as if Willow had never bothered. Only a kiss between then and now.  
  
His thoughts whirled. Have to get going. L'il bit'll wonder where sis is. They wouldn't miss it if I just took a little bit.  
  
He was still sitting there twenty minutes later when a flicker of crimson energy flicked over the dust on her boots.  
  
"Anya! Hold off!" Xander batted her hand from his chest and tried to focus on the caller. "Will, whatdya mean Buffy didn't come back from patrol?"  
  
"She's not here...she's always back by before Dawn gets up and she's not here!" Willow's voice was ragged with tears and rough from lack of sleep. "Dawn's going to freak if she's not back before she gets ready for school."  
  
The panic in her voice caught Xander. "Okay, I'll be there in a minute. I'll swing by her route on my way."  
  
Willow was on the couch, worrying her hands by the time he and Anya walked into the Summer's living room. Dawn already dressed for school, stood fumbling with a pile of crystals Willow had left on the mantle, by Amy-rat's cage. The red head jumped up at their entrance.  
  
Anya took the opportunity to be useful. "Ah. Dawn...let's see what we've got in the way of food. Okay?" Food was always a good distraction for a growing girl. Sighing, Dawn let the other girl drag her to the kitchen.  
  
"Will, calm down." Xander hissed. "You're gonna make Dawn panic!"  
  
"You don't understand! I ...." Willow dropped her voice so the teenager couldn't hear her over Anya's lecture on the importance of vitamins to a fertile woman. "I tried a locator spell."  
  
"Great, cause more magic's just what we need."  
  
"It didn't find her!" She bit her lip as she looked up into his face. "The only reason that would happen is if she was..."Willow trailed off, tears welling.  
  
"She's not!" He shouted. Falling back to a whisper, he added "not again." He ran his hand over his face and shook his head, his dark eyes catching something. "The spell...Is that why your nose is bleeding?"  
  
Her forehead wrinkled," What?" Reaching up, she touched the blood and looked at it. "Hunh. No...it was basic magic. It shouldn't have...whoa..."  
  
Xander caught her just before her knees gave out. Amy-rat's wheel rattled above the fireplace as the agitated creature scurried nowhere. Grabbing a tissue from the desk, he helped her sit down. "Here. What was that?"  
  
"I don't know." Willow shook her head and looked at him, puzzled. "I feel fine now."  
  
"What the...? Bloody hell!" Spike watched in questioning amazement as Buffy's body arched up from the cement slab, his jaw dropping as the energy flared and washed over her chest, just as she gasped for breath. The wave disappeared and she collapsed limply back to the stone, hands flying to her breast and eyes wide.  
  
He approached her cautiously, wary of a trap. "Slayer? Buffy?"  
  
She sat up, panting. "Spike?" Terror in her eyes stopped his advance. "What did you do?"  
  
"What did I...?" His voice shook with quiet hurt as he realized her thought. "No! Listen..." He reached out a hand and laid it on her breast. "your heart's beating." He stood stone still, feeling the steady pulse under his hand.  
  
Trying to calm herself, Buffy took stock. "Breathing, too.' Her hand covered his for a bare second before she pushed him off and tipped her chin down to gaze at herself. "What happened?" Pulling her blouse aside, she felt the stiffness of the rent, bloodied material. Two puckering, red circular scars, one over her heart another down on her ribcage glared from pale skin. She could feel another itching just to the right of her spine.  
  
Spike had backed to the wall again, observing her. "No idea. Sun was coming up, so I brought you here." Unconsciously, he tipped up his flask again, the liquor hiding the relief in his voice. "I was on my way to the sewers when the light show started."  
  
Her eyebrows lifted. "Light show?" She touched her dry lips. "Thirsty..."  
  
Spike remembered the flask in his nerveless fingers and tossed it to her, his mouth twitching as she grimaced and swallowed. "Looked like one of Red's little parlor tricks."  
  
"Willow? Willow." At first, it was a puzzled question. The second was almost a growl.  
  
For someone who was thoroughly dead not ten minutes ago, she's pretty spry, Spike thought to himself as he dropped into the lower level of his crypt and headed for the sewer entrance. The way she had leapt from the sarcophagus and flung the door aside (he'd only just missed a nasty burn, mind you) He assumed she was headed for her home and an explanation from the resident witch.  
  
Buffy's mind spun as she darted through the early morning bustle of Sunnydale. There hadn't been any peace this time. Just darkness. Then the awful dragging and gasping to fill still lungs. But the look on Spike's face had assured her she had been dead. Again. How had Willow known?  
  
As she turned the conner to Revello Drive, Buffy couldn't get past the refrain of "Willow Did This," ricocheting in her head. She came to a halt at the door and reached out to open it just as it was wrenched from her grasp.  
  
Xander was pulling his jacket on as he left the house. "I'll go look.....Buffy?!" The surprise and relief in his voice faded as he took in her appearance. "oh God, Buff..." He reached out to her, only to stop when she tilted her face up to him. Blank hazel eyes regarded him, dust smeared across her forehead, hair matted with gore. He stumbled back as she pushed him aside to walk in the house.  
  
A smile was breaking across Willow's tear-tracked face. "You're back!"  
  
She started across the room. Before she could ask what had happen, Buffy was on her. Wrapping one hand around Willows slender, white throat and the other over her wide mouth, Buffy pinned the slight girl to the wall with a fraction of the Slayer's strength. "One word. One thought in my head that isn't mine and I'll snap your neck. We'll see how easy it is to bring yourself back from beyond." She spoke levelly, her eyes still eerily blank, her breathing calm, showing no sign of her recent sprint.  
  
"Buffy?" Dawn's high voice, reedy with worry and new fright didn't shake the Slayer's gaze from Willow's.  
  
"Go to school, Dawn."  
  
"What are you...?"  
  
"Go outside and wait for the bus."  
  
Anya, heeding 1200 years of tales of angry Slayers, grabbed Dawn's hand and tugged her out the door. "I'll wait with you."  
  
Xander cautiously moved to where he knew Buffy could see him, feeling like he was dealing with a wild dog. "What happened? What's with treating Willow like she's the big bad?" His voice shook a little on the last word of attempted banter. He tried again to touch her shoulder only to have her flinch away.  
  
"What has she been doing?" Buffy cast her eyes briefly to the side, tightening her grasp on Willow's throat.  
  
"Nothing...looking for you."  
  
"Wanna know where I was?" Buffy's voice took on its casual lilt. Somehow, mixed with her cold stare, it didn't reassure her friends. "I was hanging out with the dead, as usual. And, whoops! Became one with my work again. Very Zen of me, wasn't it?"  
  
Willow tried to swallow a whimper as Buffy's gaze flicked back to her. "And then I wasn't. Spike tells me there was a pretty light show. Shame I missed it again. Least this time no one buried me."  
  
The redhead tried to shrink back, to avoid the accusation. Xander filled in. "You died...and came back?"  
  
"Instant repeat..or replay...or something like that. And here Willow the White is with a bloody nose, smelling of guilt and fear and magic."  
  
Spike took that cue to enter, smoldering. "All the sun exposure I've gotten recently, you'd think I'd get a tan out of it." Taking in the tragic tableau, he added, "Seems I haven't missed the fun and games, though. Little witch did do it, then?"  
  
"Shut up, Spike." Turning back to Buffy, Xander tried to mediate. "She couldn't have done it. It was all group-efforty last time. Candles, blood...there was ritual and stuff." Willow tried to nod, but Buffy's hands still rigidly restrained her. Pressed against her, Buffy could feel the other's heart, like a rabbit's beneath her breast. She was shaking and new tears had swelled and were dripping down Buffy's stained fingers, leaving tracks in the blood and dirt. Something in Buffy warmed at the fear Willow was transmitting and shock at the enjoyment more than anything loosened her fingers to allow Willow to draw a clear breath.  
  
"Feels painful, that first breath?" Buffy asked for Willow's ears alone, tilting her head to one side, in a mockery of her usual pose of concern. Louder, she continued her attack. "Doesn't mean that first spell didn't change something."  
  
"Let her go, Buff," Xander pleaded, his mind racing to decide what he'd do if Buffy tried to kill Willow. Spike was unlikely to do more than smirk. "We'll find out what happened, okay? We'll call Giles." A glance over at the vampire told him his chances of support were nil. Buffy listened to Willow's shuddering breaths a moment longer. "Please, Buffy. She can't tell us anything like this."  
  
"One word of magic and the next time I lay my hands on you, I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to Spike." Spike snickered behind her as Willow grew even paler and Xander closed his eyes. Cautiously, Buffy lifted her hand from Willow's mouth and backed off, leaving her other hand against the throat until the last second, the movement of her fingers like a fond caress.  
  
Xander stepped over to support the shaky redhead back to the couch. Grumbling, Spike leaned against the wall, eyes still on the vignette. "Should've known it was a bluff." But he stopped his complaints in surprise as Buffy sat on the arm of the chair he was sprawled in.  
  
She leaned casually back, and asked "Is Dawn still outside?"  
  
"Nah, Bus left before I popped out of the sewer. Didn't figure her little pals should see the smoking spectacle. Xander's tidbit's gone as well, mentioned something about stock organization."  
  
Xander looked at the two blondes in casual conversation with a dropped jaw. "Umm, not to interrupt the parental conference, but, Buffy, you just tried to kill Willow!"  
  
She shook her head. "Nope. If I'd tried, she'd be dead. Lots of practice with these things." The casual tone dropped with the next words addressed to the girl on the couch, rubbing her throat. "Did you know what would happen?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "I swear..."  
  
"I wouldn't if I were you."  
  
Willow's eyes widened again. She gulped and nodded, then shook her head again. "I mean, No." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Can I have some water?"  
  
"Xander"  
  
"Gotcha"  
  
They sat in silence while Xander was in the kitchen. Willow felt a bit like a butterfly skewered to a mounting board. Or a mouse between two cats. She wondered for a moment if Amy-Rat had felt like this before Miss Kitty Fantastico had disappeared. Gladness didn't quite cover the relief she felt when Xander returned with a glass and an attempted quip.  
  
"Now that the insanity has stopped a notch or two, What's going on?" Xander looked at Willow with a disconcerting mix of sympathy and outrage.  
  
"I don't know. Nothing in the resurrection spell indicated anything like this could happen."  
  
"Even if you did it wrong?" Buffy seemed skeptical.  
  
Willow straightened a bit. "If I'd done it wrong, you'd still be dead!"  
  
Buffy smiled a feral little smile. "Thank heavens for small favors...oh...wait." Willow looked back down, her posturing done for the moment.  
  
Xander paced behind the couch. "We didn't finish, Will. The biker demons broke the urn thing and we scattered. Could that've..?"  
  
She shook her head. "Don't see how. If the spell brought Buffy back, then it was complete. I did everything righ...I mean, the way Osiris required."  
  
"Osiris, eh?" Spike tipped his head, causing Buffy to glance down at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I dunno. Rang a bell for some reason." He shrugged. "Gone now, though."  
  
"Maybe if I researched some more, I could find out what happened."  
  
Buffy stood, stretching. "Gee. Didn't look at all the bases, hunh, Will? Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Willow shrank from Buffy's criticism. "Why don't you go do that then?"  
  
"I'm supposed to register for class today." Willow felt very small compared to the girl standing beside her.  
  
"Gee. Sure Willow. Run off to school, then. I guess I'll go experiment a little. See if a butcher knife is more effective than iron railings through my heart."  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
She turned back to Willow and Xander. "What? I'm serious. Can't hurt to try. My own little investigation, since I'm not so good with the books."  
  
Even Spike looked a little shaken at this. "Pet, maybe a shower and a nap?"  
  
"Sure. Might as well be all April fresh." She leaned towards Willow and laid a light strong hand on delicate bones, her voice grew deceptively encouraging "Willow. I need to know what you've done to me. If it's not too inconvenient." She squeezed the shoulder lightly and moved to the stairs. Xander's voice stopped her.  
  
"Maybe we should call Giles, now."  
  
She glanced back. "No. Took me awhile to learn the lesson, but I don't go chasing after men that leave me." With that, she disappeared upstairs, leaving the three to themselves. Xander touched the bruises developing on Willow's throat and glanced up at Spike. For the second time that morning, Xander felt dead eyes track and lock on him.  
  
"Told you magic always had consequences, didn't I, boy?"  
  
Cordelia hung the phone back on its hook and stretching her neck and shoulders before glancing up at Angel's questioning gaze. "None of Lorne's contacts has heard anything either."  
  
He sighed. "So we're still on our own?" Leaning back in his chair, he could hear Darla's pacing above them.  
  
"Business as usual. Scary and non-paying." She flashed a small grin at him. "Powers are their usual chatty selves. I'm starting to think they're ignoring me."  
  
"We should probably be grateful they're leaving us alone so we can focus on this."  
  
Cordy watched her friend, his shoulders hunched in. Still trying to hide in the shadows to keep the repercussions of the recent events from hitting him. "Small chance we'd bother with anything else." She sipped her tenth cup of coffee that morning. "Have Wes and Fred even glanced at that stuff we copied out last night?"  
  
With a small sigh, Angel swung to his feet and shook his head. "Too many things to deal with. I'm going to give the translations a go. I need to know what he's going to eat, I guess." His mouth twitched and he turned, intending to go back upstairs. Cordy stopped him with her next question.  
  
"So, you're going to be a daddy? Never figured you for the Mr. Mom type."  
  
"Can't say I expected it."  
  
"Ironic, isn't it?" He looked at her blankly. "Out of all of us...you're the first with a real family." Cordelia's frank glance reminded him of a long past conversation.  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"Are you going to tell her?" The tone of Cordy's voice dared him to play dumb about which "her" she was referring to.  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know." Angel's large hand flexed on the doorjamb and she wondered that the wood didn't groan in sympathy.  
  
"I can see how it would be hard. `Golly, I know I left you so you could have sunshine and puppies and kids...oh, by the way, meet Junior."  
  
Hazel eyes met deep chocolate. "Things are different now. We're past."  
  
She snorted. When Angel didn't say anything else, she continued. "Are you? How much of your past is really of the past, Angel?"  
  
Fred saved him from an empty answer. "Wesley asked me to give you this list. He says most of it's online." Angel slipped past her, to the stairs. "What were y'all talking about?"  
  
Cordelia sighed. "History."  
  
TBC.... 


End file.
